


Deal of the century

by 123Chickadee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/123Chickadee/pseuds/123Chickadee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Howard comes home to a stranger offering him a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal of the century

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own either Marvel or Supernatural.   
> Hope you enjoy!

The man glowered as the stranger poured himself a drink. He was using the silver tongs; they gleamed in the low light, making him think of the ambient lights from the old ballrooms, the burned out bars…

Clink of the ice from the bucket. He always made sure it was filled, so he could never go without. He pressed his lips tighter, preventing the keen that wanted to escape. The ice tumbled into expensive cut glass. It caught the dim lamps; a brief prism burst of color that disappeared almost too quickly for him to catch. It vanished as soon as the amber liquid. The romantic in him liked to compared the bourbon to gold, the way the light played tricks with his eyes, but he knew it was just brown. 

The stranger smiled at him. Thin lips that barely concealed teeth, but not ugly, no…quite the opposite. So pink against peach skin and those high angled cheekbones. Almost fey-like if not for the strong jaw. A dark cap of curls that rest high on the forehead, curling at the brow and nape. Big brown eyes, so bright against the rest of the room. He took a sip of the bourbon, and for a split second, his eyes flashed red. The stranger winked. 

“Well this is certainly unexpected. Here you are, in your nice home with your nice things. A pretty wife and a cute lil’ rug-rat. You've got a everything a man could want. Family, fame, power…money. What could possibly have to offer you?”

“When you put it like that, nothing.”

“Oh I’m not so sure about that.” The stranger shrugged. “No I’m thinking there is something you desperately want.”

The stranger swayed forward, drink discarded on the polished counter. He shuddered. The stranger’s lapels pressed against his own, the pin shimmered but his eyes glossed over the designs on the button. He didn't want to know; he had to keep the stranger within his sights. The stranger’s lips getting close and then brushing his ear. 

“So desperate…desperate enough-”

“Not that desperate.”

He pulled away, slapping the stranger’s hands away. There was a flash of something behind the eyes, another hint of that red. The stranger cocked his head, smirk too broad to look curious. A thoughtful hum came from the back of his throat. 

“Not desperate enough to save your son?” He stilled. “I can save him you know.” 

“…What?”

The stranger smiled, teeth bared and hands outstretched. He was breathing through his nose, teeth clenched. It took him a moment to realize he was shaking. Balling his hands into fists, he struggled to get his throat moving. It clicked in a way he had never heard before. He whetted his lips trying to grease the words to get them to come out. The stranger pursed his lips, clicking his tongue, and looking at him as though he were especially dim.

“Think about it…you've angered some very powerful people. Then…poor Anthony all alone in the world, without guidance, without love…”

“…You leave him out of this.” 

“Don’t you see I can’t. After all, who will care for him after you’re gone?” The stranger smiled. “Don’t you get it? With me, I can offer you something substantial. I save you son and you’ll get to spend ten long years with him and then you come to me.” 

“Ten years?”

The stranger nodded. “Ten years.” 

He stared, not really seeing anything, just feeling his body buzzing. It came on so sudden, to be so aware of his blood, his atoms vibrating inside of him. They screamed at him to run. The vomit was at his throat, ready to be expelled at his command. Muscles jumped, humming like one of his generators. His body is a machine, pumping at the command of his nervous system. He wheezed. 

Another nod from the stranger. “Yes. A frail body that can be injured…so easily. So think about how much good you could do with the time you would get. After all the blood and death you've seen…all that pain can be worth it. After all, what’s one little soul?” 

His jaw clenched in unison with his fists. “Get out.”

The stranger whirled, eyes burning and his face contorted into a snarl. Harsh lines etched in his face like petrified wood. His eyes sunk into pits, iris wide and red. Limbs stretched, skin pulling too tightly over bones. The effect stopped as suddenly as it began and the stranger screeched.

“You think you've seen evil? A couple of Nazi’s couldn't stomach me. You know how much blood you’re swimming in? How can you call yourself a good man after all that’s said and done?”

“Try to…but I don’t think you’d understand.” He swallowed. “So you've gone to the wrong businessman.”

The stranger held up his hands, a smooth look coming over his face. His lips turned up and upturned eyebrows. He strode backwards and grabbed his drink. He downed it all in one gulp. His teeth caught a malformed ice cube. His lips pulled up as he stared and he cracked the ice with a sharp bite. The stranger slammed the glass hard enough to crack it over the counter. As the stranger strode out, he could heard the echoing voice ring out from the foyer.

“Too bad. You just missed out on the deal of the century, Mr. Stark."

End.


End file.
